


Nyx

by Ocianne



Category: Chrono Trigger
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ocianne/pseuds/Ocianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How does a child react to only knowing the future when disaster strikes? A brief look into Janus's childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nyx

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xannish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xannish/gifts).



“Prince Janus? Is something wrong?”

For all that she hovered like an overbearing kiwala, Lissa sounded distant in the wake of familiar chill. He scooped up Alfador, disregarding the no-longer-kitten’s gangling limbs, and cuddled him close, the fuzzy warmth a protective ward.

“Where’s Schala? I want Schala.” She would be safe. The dark wind couldn’t possibly touch _her_ , even if it almost always hurt someone else before it passed.

“Princess Schala is with her magic tutors, remember, young master?” Lissa barely flinched at his scowl, not that she’d have taken him there anyway. Those tutors made it clear months ago that until the young prince showed a speck of _proper_ magic, his presence was unwelcome. “But I’m here, and nothing will hurt you. Enhasa is just as safe as Kajar Palace, you know.”

He ignored her, scrutinizing the passing researchers and dreamers from their vantage on one of the high library balconies. Focusing on them helped suppress the urge to make a mad dash for Schala anyway. Ice squeezed at his lungs; the direct teleport that bypassed the surface was only down the hall...

Alfador emitted a purr bigger than he was and nuzzled so hard that fur went up Janus’s nose. The sneezing fit made a very effective distraction until a shattering _boom_ nearly knocked him off his feet. He didn’t even stop to think before he ran—not to the teleport, but toward the rising smoke.

“Prince!” Lissa gave chase, but wasn't quite so light on her feet, particularly on the endless stairs across the multiple tiers of the city. Alfador gave a protesting “Mrewr!” to being run with and dug in his claws, but they felt more like prickles than anything painful. A crowd had gathered by the time he arrived at the charred opening, one or two among them summoning water to put out the residual fires. It had come from one of the many research laboratories, one of Guru Balthasar’s, maybe?

“Stay back!” A hand caught his shoulder, then was hastily snatched away again as the guard paled in recognition. “Even you, your highness. It’s not safe, especially for—” The guard fell silent. _Someone like you._ What was worse, he wasn't wrong.

Lissa finally caught up, breathing hard, as two researchers exited the lab, carrying another in a makeshift seat of arms. Where her legs ought to have been, there was nothing but ragged cloth and shiny pink skin across mid-thigh—Lissa's hand firmly covered his eyes before he could see any more. “You ought'n't be watching, young master.” Under her breath, she added, “Thank Zeal for the gurus' healing draughts...”

By the time he shook off her hand, the trio had gone. Only the lab supervisor remained, wringing his hands by the ruined wall. “I don’t understand, we were trying to refine the Sun Stone's energy, but it shouldn't have reacted like that.”

A guard took his elbow, sympathetic. “Let's go find Guru Belthasar, sir. He'll want to know what happened. It'll be a while before the lab is repaired and the personnel replaced.”

Janus watched them go, shoulders dropping as Alfador continued to purr. The numbing, foreboding wind had blown itself out—at least for now.

\-- 

“Did you hear? Guru Melchior is creating a machine to extract more power from the Sun Stone! We’ll be able to create even bigger wonders than the floating islands!”

He paused around the corner from the Palace staff, unease a tight coil in his stomach. But how could refined energy be so bad? If it could make more things, better things, where was the harm?

He didn't sleep without nightmares for weeks, until Alfador began curling up on his pillow every night. 

\--

The continent was dark, cold, and filthy. Earthbound ones couldn't even feel the dark winds; yet, for some inexplicable reason, Schala _liked_ to visit. And insisted Janus come along too. For education, or enrichment, or some other 'e' words.

This small village had few children, all of whom stayed well out of range after seeing Janus's expression. He stood in a corner with crossed arms, listening half-heartedly to Schala's conversation with the elder and a handful of other adults while staying well away from any dirt or green stuff. The green might have been what Guru Melchior called “moss”, but who cared? It was as boring as water, which was all Schala and the old folks seemed to be talking about. There was a great big ocean full of water closer to the village than the teleport home, why couldn't they use that? And what was desaliwhatsit?

He shivered under a breeze. Holes dug out of dirt and rock apparently couldn't even keep out drafts; it was so cold, blowing right through his warmest robes—

A screech like a wounded monster echoed through the caverns. It was impossible to tell what it was over the sudden rush of wind—it wasn't _just_ a monster, the wind was there, it was back, blowing straight through his head like freezing rain. He fell, but hands caught him, Schala’s familiar arms warm in the choking darkness. Her voice hummed a soothing, familiar melody as he burrowed closer against her, though it failed to drown out the echoing shouts of fear and pain.

Then, just as suddenly, it was over. He pulled back, blinking hard and a tiny bit nauseous, to be met by Schala’s shaky smile. “I’m sorry, Janus. No one was sick; if I’d felt any foreboding, I wouldn’t have brought you along today.”

“You mean _we_ wouldn’t have gone,” he corrected. His heart clenched as the crooked curve to her smile made clear that he was wrong. She looked away without answering as the elder returned alone, face pale and drawn.

“I am sorry,” the elder offered gravely. “A Beast from the grotto killed Isander.”

“You’re sure? Perhaps I could—” The man’s upraised hand and bitter headshake stalled Schala’s words.

“Not even your magic, my dear princess, can bring back the dead. Perhaps you could return another day. We have much that must be done to lay his spirit to rest.”

Disappointment flickered across Schala’s face, and Janus glared at the man for taking away her smile, however briefly. Stupid beasts and stupid villagers and stupid elders sending her away when she only wanted to help.

“Of course, Elder Barracus. Perhaps in a few days.” Schala stood, picking Janus up in the process. For a moment he started to protest, leaning away, but the movement left him lightheaded and he clung to her instead, head resting against her shoulder. Stupid cold winds that not even Schala felt like this. Why _him?_

\--

The day the Gurus pinpointed the resting spot of the mythical creature described in the oldest songs of Zeal as ‘Lavos’, the palace physician spent six hours trying to revive Janus from a catatonic state. Schala refused to leave his bedside, despite her magic and presence having no apparent effect for the first time in his life.

Her Majesty the Queen stayed in conference with the Gurus the entire day, eschewing interruptions. When informed after the fact of Janus’s condition and spontaneous recovery, her lack of concern seemed uncharacteristically callous to her advisors. But they’d all had a long day, and the new possibilities were so exciting… surely it was nothing to be concerned about.

\--

“ _Schalaaaa!”_ Janus scrabbled for purchase on the slick floor, unable to break the portal’s invisible grip. The last thing he saw was Schala reaching back, face frozen in protective fear, too far away to make a difference. The portal swallowed him into dizzying waves of black and blue, weightless and timeless and airless for an instant of eternity. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t _breathe…_

The colors vanished and he dropped, hard, into something prickly that smelled like the Earthbound caves.

“What the—!?”

Who said that? Squinting against the sudden sun, Janus wobbled to his feet. His bones felt like they’d been used as fortunetelling dice, and the air was stifling, hotter than the floating continents in the height of summer. But if there was someone…

He’d landed in what looked like the mountains outside the palace, but colored from green to browns and reds. The only green thing in the clearing was a large, white-clad... overfed imp?

The monster flailed at seeing Janus look his way and roared, “Get him!”

_Oh no—_

Three monsters that looked like blue imps, but larger than any he’d ever seen from the continent, exited the brush. The black wind rose from a mere zephyr to a screaming gale as he tried to watch them all circling at once. It had never _hurt_ like this, even when he’d been half conscious from the shrieking force, it pounded in his ears and through his head—

One leapt, claws and fangs flashing. He covered his head and screamed, the darkness screaming in tandem as pressure grew until it was unbearable, and then seemed to break free. Black light (how could light be black?) flashed outwards. When it vanished, so had the imps, as surely as if one of Dalton's golems had eaten them. Only the big green one remained, and it cowered as he faced it.

"D-don't hurt me!" the creature whimpered. "How can you have magic? Only Mystics have magic!"

Magic?

...His head didn't hurt. The wind had gone, and he was still alive. The ones who had been hurt were... dead because he'd killed them. With magic. 

He laughed, giddy with adrenaline and power. It thrummed through his veins like it was alive, energy and vitality like he'd never known. Was this what Schala felt like all the time?

The thought of Schala ground his mind to a halt and he looked around, trying to find any evidence of the hole in space he'd fallen through. There was nothing. He fought back the prickle of tears behind his eyes, willed his voice to stay steady even as it roughened with the tightness in his throat. Schala was gone. "I won't hurt you, monster. Probably. Threaten me again, and I make no promises. Where am I? What year is it?" Guru Gaspar had said something about a  _time_ gate...

"Truce Canyon, 584 AD. What  _was_ that? I've never seen magic like it!"

The name was unfamiliar, and the numbers nonsensical. Janus ignored the other question. "Do you have magic? Can you control it?"

"Y-yeah! I'm the Great Ozzie!" Ozzie puffed out his chest for a moment, face taking on a more calculating bent. "You look like you need some training, kid. You've got loads of raw power, but do you have any control?"

Janus answered the simpering smile with a tight, cautious one of his own. "You're offering to train me?"

"Of course! We'll let bygones be bygones. You pull your weight in the gang and I'll teach you everything I know."

"Do you know anything about Lavos?" Lavos had to be the key. If it couldn't give a way back to Schala, then at least there was a chance at revenge for hurting her, for changing mother...

"Can't say I do, but there's loads of books back at the keep." Ozzie quickly buried an expression of embarrassment as he continued, "I haven't read 'em, you understand; I have minions to do that boring stuff. But I'll bet bats to bellbirds that you could find something about him, whoever he is."

Janus chewed his lip, glancing down automatically to check for Alfador at his heels.

...Alfador was gone, too.

Squaring his shoulders, Janus met Ozzie's gaze. "It's a deal."

_Wait for me, Lavos, Schala... I'm coming._


End file.
